Even the autumn made sounds then
When the leaves rustled and fell down
When the bewildering wind stirred up their embers
Not letting them lay in peace,
even as they died…
Like the vase that shattered in the silent hall
And the sound of the falling flowers
They shook and they stormed and noisily
they merged into dust.
——
How ignoble of beautiful autumn,
To shut out the summer so…
The one who made all so warm
Turning leaves into nets of gold,
Towards hastily shoved memories
In books on giggling lakeside picnics.
—–
It’s the spring who brings quietitude home,
With its silent splendour,
That walks even ghosts of memories,
on feathers of silk
Ever-turning colors‘n ever-changing moods,
But a persistent rhythm, that never lost sync,
A balming regular harmony
So deep to reach…
In my heart, as it trickles peace.
Like every teardrop
Softening my hardened heart
—–
And as spring shall flow away,
Into summer birds yonder one day…
As winter looks to set in,
Some of you shall still remain
As frozen spring flowers,
Soaked in warm water,
Still smelling of the good ol’ spring chime,
One wintry late night
As I will be all alone in my chalet,
As the snow falls outside in a white spread,
Sifting thru’ the memories as you make your way,
Across 6000 miles…
‘n all our lives,
will melt away to the fragrance of candles…
and a crackling pyre,
that’ll warm someone’s passionate night…
of love losing sight
into those who make it…
drifting softly towards a new season
…of Life.
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